


Detention and Disco

by basilanddill



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Disco, Fluff and Humor, French, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 13:39:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3812566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basilanddill/pseuds/basilanddill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon takes a French elective course and somehow manages to embarrass himself beyond belief on the first day. He has no idea what's so wrong in what he says until Baz clues him in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Detention and Disco

Baz was lying on his bed reading when the door flew open and Simon stormed inside. Over the top of his book he watched Simon cross the room and struggle with his scarf as he dropped his bag onto his desk with a loud thud. After a couple more seconds of intense battle with the scarf it followed the bag and he shrugged out of his coat and flung it over the back of the chair. With his hands on his hips he stared at his bag in frustration, as if it had just ripped open and spilled a dozen pink unicorns for the entire magical kingdom to see.

Baz closed his book. “What’s the matter with you?”

Simon turned and glared at Baz for a moment before he smoothed his expression and let out an agitated breath. He came and sat beside Baz and stared at him, not saying anything. Baz raised his eyebrows slightly.

Simon turned his head forward and ran his fingers through his hair. “I hate French.”

Baz squinted as he tried to think through that. “So you’re having a bad day because you’re not a big fan of the French language,” he asked slowly.

“Yes. Well no. Kinda.” Simon shifted on the bed. “I got detention.”

Baz’s eyebrows rose fully and he sat up. “Woaaah, wait a second. You got detention? _You_ got detention?”

Simon shot Baz an accusing look. “You don’t need to look smug about it.”

Baz schooled his features and grabbed Simon’s free hand so that their clasped hands lay between them. “Of course I’m not _glad_ you got detention, just surprised. You’re the Mage’s Heir, the professors absolutely _adore_ you. When was the last time you got detention, when you were first year?”

Simon smiled a little at the memory. “Yeah, it was in Potions and Elixir’s. The dumb base of my cauldron gave out and bloody _rolled away_ and of course the massive cauldron had to go and smash Professor Sidirik’s 50 year old Scotch.”

Baz laughed. “I remember that, I was in your class. Your horrified face as you watched the dumb support wheel roll away was award winning. Sidirik’s face turned so red I was sure he was going to have a heart attack. I think the only reason we got dismissed early that day was so he could have a good cry in the corner.”

They chuckled to themselves and Baz absentmindedly played with the fingers of their joined hands. “So who gave you detention then,” Baz asked as he looked over at Simon.

Simon’s face lost a little bit of its mirth but he didn’t look nowhere near as mad as when he first walked in and this pleased Baz more than he was letting on.

 _Point one for magical boyfriend listening skills,_ Baz thought to himself.

Simon sighed. “It was Professor Brisbaise.”

“Brisbaise,” Baz asked. “As in Professor Brisbaise-Grumpy-Face? As in the woman whose default expression is a scowl?”

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Simon muttered.

“Gee, way to poke a bear with a stick. What did you do?”

With another sigh, Simon settled into a comfortable position. “Well I was in my International Languages class and –“

“Wait,” Baz interrupted, “you’re taking International Languages?”

“Yeah, as my choice class. Why, what’s yours?”

“Literature.”

“See that’s smart, I should have taken that too,” Simon grumbled.

Baz was confused. “Why did you take International Languages if you hate French?”

Simon smacked his hand down in frustration on the bed. “I don’t _hate_ French, at least not before today I didn’t. I figured I’d take the class, learn some French and everyone would be as bad as I am starting out. Obviously,” he slowly drew out the word sarcastically, “I was wrong. Those people in the class already know French, no idea why they’re taking the class,” Simon fumed.

“Probably to get an easy mark,” Baz reasoned.

“Yeah, well they shouldn’t,” Simon retorted.

“I still don’t see how you got detention in a language class of all classes.”

Simon looked over at Baz and reluctantly launched into his story.

"Today we had to stand up and say a line in complete French. I don’t understand how we’re supposed to _know_ how to speak a line of French when it’s our first class but okay, sure. So when it was my turn I stood up and said the only line I knew, thanks to that song that's always on the radio. Well, the entire cursed class started to laugh like hyenas and Brisbaise pretty much turned purple."

“ _I don’t much care for your attitude, Mr. Snow,”_ Simon mimicked in a high, snarly voice. “ _Detention, tonight, 8:00 in my chambers.”_

Baz looked at Simon, equally as baffled. “What the hell did you _say_?”

Simon waved a hand in the air. “It was nothing, just some line I heard on the radio. You know the one,” Simon started humming and singing the tune, “ _voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir…_ I really don’t see what’s so bad about that.”

Baz blinked once, twice and then burst out laughing so hard that the bed started to shake.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME,” Simon roared. “What is wrong with everyone today?”

It took Baz three attempts to regain his composure but finally, he leaned back onto the headboard clutching his sore stomach and looked at Simon with watery eyes. Meanwhile, Simon sat in his own little space and if he were an anime character, there’d be waves of displeasure oozing off of him.

“You actually said that to Brisbaise,” Baz asked and even though he tried really hard he couldn’t help the snigger that slipped in.

“Yes, and I really don’t see what’s so wrong. It was French and it was a sentence, I don’t really see what she’s complaining about,” he muttered darkly.

Comprehension dawned on Baz at that moment and he had to bite his lip to keep from smiling. He knew he was a hair’s width away from getting beaten with a pillow. “Simon, what do you think you said?”

“ _Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir,”_ Simon said exasperatedly. “I already told you that.”

“No,” Baz said while desperately trying to keep the laugh from his voice, “what do you think you said in English?”

Simon scrunched up his forehead, clearly not seeing where this line of questioning was leading to. “I dunno, somewhere along the lines of ‘Do you want to hide with me tonight?’”

 _Dear Crowley help us all,_ Baz thought to himself as Simon watched him struggle to not laugh.

“That’s ‘ _cacher’_ darling.”

Simon frowned. “What is?”

“To hide.”

“Wait, so then what’s _‘coucher_ ’?”

Baz looked apologetically at Simon. “To sleep.”

Simon’s eyes progressively grew wider and his jaw swung down and he stared at Baz, horrified. He snatched a pillow and stuffed his face into it. “So,” Simon said, his voice muffled in the pillow, “that means that I…”

“Asked Professor Brisbaise to sleep with you tonight in front of half our grade? Afraid so,” Baz said, patting Simon on the back sympathetically.

Simon shock his head in the pillow. “Oh Stars, I’m never going back. I’m never going back. I’m just going to dig a tunnel out of our chambers and live in a cave somewhere deserted. I can live off grasshoppers,” he almost cried into the pillow.

Baz leaned his side against Simon’s. “Yeah, well I can’t. Do grasshoppers even have any blood? They seem like the kind of bugs that would be filled with some gooey, slimey but nutrient-filled goop coursing through their tiny little systems. Vampires do not live off of _goop._ ”

Simon raised his head and looked at Baz hopefully. “Maybe you can _convince_ them that they didn’t hear anything. You know, tweak their memories a little?”

“With what, my voodoo vampire skills,” Baz asked sarcastically. “Don’t believe everything you see on television. If I could do that, trust me, we would miraculously never be scheduled for anymore morning classes. Ever.”

Simon groaned and leaned sideways against Baz, returning the pressure.

“So you’re transferring out,” Baz asked.

“First chance I get tomorrow morning.”

“Professor Brisbaise will be estatic.”

“Not that you could tell,” Simon added in making them both laugh out a breath.

 

 

 

 


End file.
